Posted tagged ‘Rosie Burton’

The concert began with the overture to Mozart’s Don Giovanni, beginning with a riskily fast tempo for the ‘slow’ introduction – the spooky music for the arrival of the statue of the dead Commendatore at Don Giovanni’s supper table; but Ben Palmer knew what he was doing, and it worked. The ensuing Allegro was a bit of a scrabble, the strings not quite in tune yet, the trumpets and timpani drowning everything out at their entries in the echoey acoustic of St Paul’s. (Solution? Harder timp sticks? Just mark all their dynamics down a bit? Make each entry a very quick diminuendo from a fortepiano? Shame, as the ‘straight’ natural trumpets made a great sound, as well as looking terrific.)

And the Overture ended with an awkward and stylistically out-of-kilter concert ending (necessary because in the opera itself the Overture doesn’t ‘finish’ but segues into the first scene in a different key). Nul points to whichever publisher perpetrated that one – there are much simpler solutions that work fine.

Next came the reason we were there – my niece Rosie Burtonplaying the Hummel Bassoon Concerto. There is something of a shortage of decent bassoon concertos (well, if you don’t count the 36 or so by Vivaldi, and one that probably isn’t by Rossini); the teenage Mozart wrote one, which is famous because it is by Mozart but is really not up to much (though you wonder what the other half-dozen or so he is alleged to have written might have been like). Weber wrote the greatest of all, in 1811; and that’s about it, apart from a few modern ones. No Beethoven, Brahms Dvořák or Elgar… And then there’s Johann Nepomuk Hummel. He was an interesting chap – student (and lodger) of Mozart, pupil of Haydn and Beethoven, wrote some fine (and very jolly) chamber music, including the wittiest Wind Octet ever written; and he wrote his Grand Concertofor Bassoon in 1805. It isn’t heard very often, because it is VERY difficult: not only is there lots of whizzing about in semiquavers, but the writing is awkward and un-bassoony – double octaves, huge skips and ever-widening arpeggio patterns – so the piece is even harder than it sounds.

Rosie did a fantastic job, performing with note-perfect accuracy, style, polish and fun, and above all with a gorgeous sound: warm, rich tone, smooth and nutty, and totally under control at all times. I am very envious! – and very proud.

After the interval, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D – an ‘early’ work that isn’t heard as often as it should be or used to be. Ben Palmer once again went for broke in his daringly fast tempi, but they paid off. And this time the stabs of trumpets and timpani were perfectly judged, providing Beethovenian ‘punctuation’ with point and clarity but never drowning the rest of the band.

The gently lilting ‘slow’ movement was refreshing – special praise for Tom Hardyon bassoon, along with the other woodwind principals – though I would have preferred just a little more room to breathe for the bouncy cello theme: the tempo is Larghetto, after all.

Conversely, the Scherzo felt as if it could have done with being even quicker. But it made its Beethovenian mark, especially the moment in the Trio when the unison strings say ‘We’re going to play in F sharp major now’ and the rest of the orchestra says ‘Oh no you’re not!’

The Finale was an absolute rocket, and brilliantly effective. Occasionally it seemed to totter on the verge of rushing out of control, but never quite did. Ben Palmer captured perfectly Beethoven’s shock tactics and rough wit in the handling of the opening ‘yah boo’ motive, and conversely the hushed moment in the Coda when pizzicato cellos and basses step down and down into new harmonic realms, ‘as if’, in the words of Sir George Grovequoted by my brother Tony in his programme note, ‘we had passed through a door and were in a new enchanted world’.

Talking of which, one small disappointment was the presence of just one double bass – who was, however, always rock solid and perfectly audible; but even with a small orchestra one surely needs two or three basses, especially as Beethoven himself apparently preferred to have more basses than cellos.

Nevertheless, this was the most exciting and compelling performance of Beethoven 2 I have heard in a long time, or possibly ever; by this time the orchestra was perfectly in focus and in full steam, and Ben Palmer brought it to life and made sense of the piece in ways I had certainly never heard before. Great concert.

Definition: Reed Rage. An affliction commonly found in double reed players, especially bassoonists. Less serious than Reed Neurosis suffered by oboe players. It involves leaping up and down on reeds that don’t work or stabbing them into music stands…

So… way back in October, we turned out to the wilds of Hampstead for a concert by REED RAGE, a brand new bassoon quartet which just happens to have my niece Rosie in it…

More about them, and biographies of the four players (and their instruments), from their website – a very swish production which I suspect Tom had a hand in:

They are Rosie Burton, Alex Davidson, Llinos Owen and Tom Hardy. The occasion was organised by Hugh Rosenbaum, who hovered over the proceedings like a benevolent but slightly anxious mother hen (and wrote a glowing review for Double Reed News afterwards! – Issue 89, Winter 2009, page 33). The tiny room at Burgh House was packed to the rafters, and extra chairs had to be sent for to accommodate all the bassoonists, pupils, relations, friends and other interested parties who were eager to squeeze in.

The three girls are all alumnae of the Southbank Sinfonia, and Tom is a veteran of – well, lots of things. Each of the four had a terrific, characterful sound, and as a quartet their blend, unanimity of attack, discipline and intonation were a joy. Most of the contra duties fell to Tom, although Alex’s Big Bertha got a look in too.

The programme managed to avoid the usual bassoon quartet chestnuts (though it would have been nice to hear Alan Ridout’sPigs played really well) and instead gave us wide-ranging repertoire, from Senaillé and Fucik to Prokofiev, Stravinsky and beyond, mostly in arrangements – the arrangers including Boris Turner (a.k.a. Rosie Burton), Graham Sheen, and Andrew Skirrow (who turned out to be an old chum of Tom’s).

The concert also included the European premiere of Dance of the Polar Bears by Gernot Wolfgang, enterprisingly commissioned by a consortium (including Hugh Rosenbaum) from this highly regarded Austrian-born composer, who currently lives in Los Angeles.

It was concentrated, jazzy and lots of fun – and very difficult (as I know from having taken part in the first UK read-through… but that’s another story). Some of the audience thought it perhaps outstayed its welcome; I was too busy listening to notice.

The programme concluded with The Lone Arranger by Philip R Buttall; we were invited to count the number of quotations from familiar works that crept in along the way. I’ve forgotten the answer…

But the highlight for me was probably Andrew Skirrow’s arrangement of The Poacher (which tickled Hugh Rosenbaum, as he had laid on Lincolnshire Poacher cheese for the interval – and very nice it was too).

The point of writing this review now – four months after the event – is that Reed Rage has unfortunately been in abeyance since Llinos was involved in a rather nasty car accident. We’re glad to hear she has completely recovered, and wish her well; meanwhile, Reed Rage are gearing up for another evening of delights – so watch (and listen to) this space…

Thanks to Tom for the invitation to write this piece, and for the audio clip. And to the Reed Rage website for the picture.

Apologies for news blackout – lost email and internet connection for most of the past month, not fixed yet.

Great Park Lane Group concert at Purcell Room on 9 January – my niece (bassoonist) Rosie’s major London debut, playing John Casken, Anthony Payne, and new pieces by Graham Sheen and Graham Waterhouse. Also a great string quartet (the Solstice Quartet – one to watch: playing Ligeti, Swayne, Kurtag and Joe Cutler).

This was at St George’s Hanover Square, a fine 18th-century building designed by John James in 1721-24, with connections with George Frederick Handel. Broad, handsome, light and spacious, it is a fine church and a great venue for music (…but MIND YOUR HEAD if you’re going to the loo 😦 …)

They played two pieces: Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet, K581, and the Octet by Howard Ferguson (1908-1999) – surrealistically misprinted in the programme as ‘Maynard Ferguson (1928-2006)’, a jazzer who did indeed have an octet but didn’t write this one.

The Mozart featured John Slack on clarinet – one of the current breed of ultra-cool clarinettists, which is nice because he doesn’t intrude when it isn’t his solo, but he seemed almost too laid back to the point of disappearance on occasion, and it took him a while to warm up to pitch (which is odd: shouldn’t the strings have tuned to him?). Oddly, the first violin, Tatiana Bysheva, also seemed to disappear at times, but that might just have been from where I was sitting. Otherwise the strings provided a rock-solid support, warm, dependable and very pleasing – Rebecca Mathews on 2nd violin, Dan Shilladay on viola (relishing his ‘sighing’ moment in the second Trio of the Minuet: I always imagine that this part was originally played by Mozart himself), and, above all, Gemma Wareham holding everything together from below with her authoritative (but discreet) cello playing. [click here for biographies of the players]

I came away thinking (as always) ‘What a wonderful piece this is’, which was the right reaction! The clarinet (as played in the 1780s and 90s by Anton Stadler) brought out the best in Mozart; I can never quite work out whether the thematic unity of the Quintet is deliberate, or if Mozart just came out with the same thematic shapes whenever he imagined the sound of the clarinet. Either way it makes for a most satisfying and tightly-knit experience.

The Southbank Sinfonia is a brilliant idea – a ‘semi-professional’ orchestra employing young instrumentalists between college and a professional career. To judge by their list of alumni now in orchestral positions, it works.

The orchestra is the brainchild of conductor Simon Over. It has no state funding (surprise surprise!) and is maintained by a large roster of generous supporters and huge amounts of goodwill, particularly through partnerships with ‘grown up’ orchestras such as the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, the BBC Concert Orchestra and the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, who provide coaching, playing opportunities and ‘sit-ins’ alongside professional players. And imaginative sponsors like accompanist Malcolm Martineau who provides free refreshments at concerts – hooray!

It began with a Vivaldi Concerto for Two Trumpets, bravely performed without a conductor. The soloists (Christopher Seddon and Rob Wallace) were two cool dudes to whom evidently nothing was a problem – they enjoyed every minute and played faultlessly, stationing themselves antiphonally either side of the band.

Two quibbles: how could anyone think it’s OK to perform any kind of baroque concerto without a keyboard continuo?? Just because it ‘sort of’ works to have just a cello and bass accompanying the soloists, that doesn’t make it right. And no, the slow movement is not just ‘a mere six bars long… a passage of modulation played by the strings alone’ – which is how they played it, earnestly and meaninglessly: no, it’s the basis for something – keyboard improvisation? Violin improvisation? (Probably not the trumpets, as they need the rest.) Something has to happen, and somebody has to take a decision about what. Awful sinking feeling that STILL nobody in the music colleges is taught anything beyond the received nineteenth-century ways of playing things.

The orchestra was joined by Australian soprano Anita Watson, a rising star in the ROH’s firmament and a radiant smiling presence (I previously enjoyed hearing her in Donizetti’s Rita – read more here). Her choice of arias – Mozart’s ‘Nehmt meinen Dank’ and the ‘Et incarnatus’ from the C minor Mass, and Richard Strauss’s ‘Morgen’ – suited her to perfection. Lovely violin solo in the Strauss, from leader Tatiana Byesheva.

In between Anita Watson’s items, Graham Sheen conducted his arrangement of five Danzas Gitanas by Joaquin Turina. The rather vague programme note did not describe the individual movements or even tell us what forces Graham had arranged them for. As far as I could see, it was a wind decet (flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, horns) with extras – piccolo, cor anglais – plus two trumpets and a double bass. Smashing arrangements, full of vivid colours and rhythmic life. I slightly felt that the clarinets had a raw deal – perhaps because the trumpets had grabbed their share of the melodic interest? Very nice anyway, and must have been great fun to play. I hope they’ll be published.

And a definitely rum item to finish – Manuel de Falla’s Seven Spanish Popular Songs, but with no singer! Hamlet without the Prince? I am reliably informed that it was never intended that Anita Watson should sing these. But they sounded distinctly ‘so-what’-ish in their orchestral guise. Ah well.